A puppy love mystery
by IntrovertedPuff
Summary: a Fluffy Holmes/Watson fic with no real plot where Sherlock gets Watson a puppy for his birthday. It's a small disaster and they have no idea how to take care of "their daughter." but they love him and each other so they'll get through it some how, even if Sherlock nearly drowns him for an experiment. If you don't like puppies and Johnlock go away! Rated T because i'm paranoid.
1. Chapter 1

A fluffy Holmes/Watson fic with no real plot in which Sherlock brings home a little puppy for John's birthday and they both try their utmost to take care of it, and it's a bit of a disaster but they love it and do their best.

**Authors note****: I don't own the rights to this! I love the Sherlock show sooooooo much and I've been wanting to write this fic for a long time. Be prepared for some cute Johnlock and if that offends you, you can scoot the newt out of here. **

John yawned and grumbled sleepily as he rubbed his eyes and tried to make himself wake up. It was Saturday, and today was his birthday. It didn't seem like it would be a very happy one though. Sherlock hadn't chosen a case for weeks now, which was very unlike him. John worried that he might have gotten into drugs again, but so far he had never caught his flat mate in the act so he didn't know what he could do about it.

Once he had tried to follow Sherlock when he left 221 for one of his long disappearances but it had been utterly hopeless because if Sherlock wanted to disappear he would.

John groaned and sat up, then yelled in surprise, because there was Sherlock sitting crisscross-applesauce on his bed in nothing but a bathrobe and pouting.

"Good God Sherlock!" exclaimed John throwing a pillow at him "Whatever are you doing? And for heaven's sake put some clothes on!"

Throwing the pillow was a mistake. It came sailing back with a great deal more force than he had thrown it, and now Sherlock was s_tanding _on the bed with his fists on his hips and not seeming to mind that his bathrobe was leaving very little to the imagination.

"I'm boooooored." He whined "everything's so dull here."

"You're the one who hasn't picked a case."

"They're all rubbish." He collapsed onto the bed with a dramatic sigh "Where did you hide them John?"

"_No, _Sherlock."

Sherlock gave him a bigger pout and grabbed John's hands in his own leaning and leaning in very close he whispered "pleaaaaase John. You know I never say please."

John felt his heart pound. Damn Sherlock! He pulled his hands away quickly as he could and muttered "Fine. The bloody nicotine is behind the clock in the match box. But you may only have one. _One _do you understand?"

Sherlock gave him an almost evil smile. He knew exactly how to get what he wanted from John. He did not immediately go however and stayed lounging on the bed, traces of his pout still there.

John pulled himself out of bed and grabbing his clothes retreated to the bathroom to change, as Sherlock had no intention of leaving his bed.

"John?" he called as Watson was shutting the door "I'm hungry."

"You're a grown man Sherlock get your own breakfast." Said John frustrated. There was a silence in the other room. John sighed "Fine. But get changed. I will not serve breakfast to a naked man, even if he is Sherlock Holmes."

"Oh, about that," Sherlock appeared in the hall and leaned in the doorway "I may or may not have accidently burned all my good shirts."

"Why would you do a thing like that?"

Sherlock shrugged "Science."

John shut the bathroom door decidedly "oh, throw on something of mine."

Sherlock grinned at the closed door and when he had put on Johns largest sweater and boxers that may or may not have been his as well he snapped a picture and sent it to Mycroft.

_How does it feel that you're still very much single and alone, but I share my boyfriend's clothes? _

He typed.

_Even boxers, I am surprised, and think I might barf in a can. But does John think of you as boyfriend or still just flat mate? _Mycroft was quick to reply

"Sherlock Holmes are those my boxers?!" demanded John appearing freshly shaved and changed from the shower.

"Yes. I burned all of those as well. Hope you don't mind." Sherlock tossed his phone on the couch and went to the matchbox behind the clock to grab his nicotine "Hope you hurry up with breakfast I'm starving."

John stared at him a moment. Why did he choose Sherlock Holmes of all people to be his partner? Flat mate? Friend? Companion? He was not sure what type of relationship he and Sherlock had any more.

He made Sherlock toast with eggs and bacon, and a large mug of tea on the side.

"Set it over there would you?" said Sherlock. He was laying full length on the couch with _two_ nicotine patches on his arm, John noted in annoyance. His eyes were closed and he appeared to be in deep thought.

"That's it? Just set it over there? No 'thank you John' after I made you a lovely little breakfast?" John whacked Sherlock for the second time that morning with a pillow.

"Ow!" Sherlock complained, his train of inner thought broken "I never say thank you."

It was John's turn to pout and he sat in his arm chair "Obviously not. Did you even remember that today is my damn birthday? You can remember everything but you haven't even wished me a happy birthday."

Sherlock glanced at him "I remembered."

"Well you have a fine way of showing it. It ought to have been you who was making me breakfast, you selfish bastard. And you're always worrying me when you disappear every day for hours, where do you go? Of course you won't tell me because the only reason I'm here is so you don't have to raise your pinky finger to grab something that's two feet away from you." Out of breath from his rant John stormed to his room.

"I hate emotions." Muttered Sherlock, never budging from the couch. After about fifteen minutes and John had not appeared he ripped the patches off his arm and tossed them in the trash.

"John!" Sherlock didn't bother knocking he just barged into his bedroom. With a flourish he presented a mug full of tea "I come bearing gifts. A bit of milk, one sugar, just how you like it."

John accepted the mug and sipped it, surprised at the kind gesture. He also noticed Sherlock had changed into his usual suit "Where are you going?" he asked.

"Out for my daily disappearance. Except this time you're coming with me, you see I kept on going missing because I was looking for the perfect birthday gift for you, and I found it so you better hurry."

He leaned down and gave John a feather light kiss on his forehead whispering "Happy Birthday John Watson."

**Comment what breed of dog the puppy should be! i can't decide. Thanks for reading!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors note: Thanks guys soooo much for reading, it makes my day! **_**I don't own the rights for this. **_

**Stay tuned for an adorable puppy and some major puppy panic!**

It was a looong drizzly, damp, and miserable walk through the busy streets of London and Watson had to bite his tongue and remind himself that for once Sherlock was attempting to do something kind and thoughtful to keep himself from loosing his temper.

"We nearly there Sherlock? Good Lord!" he exclaimed as his companion as Sherlock dragged him by the wrist across the street and nearly collided with a bus which honked.

"Out of my way assassin!" Sherlock shouted at it and threw a small pebble in its direction.

"Please don't get us arrested thank you very much." But John was dragged along all the faster.

"According to my deductions this is a present you have been longing for, for a very long time. Quick up this fence!" Sherlock leapt above a little chain link fence and waited impatiently for John to scramble over at a much slower pace. He knew too well that Sherlock would not be content to travel at normal speed on the sidewalk like a normal human being. If he knew a shortcut over fences, he would take the shortcut over fences.

"You might give me a hint." He suggested jogging to keep up with Holmes's long strides.

"It's something alive, of the female sex, what you might think cute, and will kiss and cuddle you if you want." Sherlock said coolly.

John stopped dead in his tracks a moment, his mouth open foolishly.

_Good Lord! _He thought straightening his tie with a swallow _the man's gotten me a-a prostitute! Only Sherlock Holmes would get that kind of birthday gift!_

"Almost there." Sherlock stopped in front of a blue door and rapped loudly with his knuckles. He appeared quite nervous and Watson couldn't blame him, he was feeling rather damp in his underarms as well.

"I hope you're paying for this because I didn't bring my wallet." John murmured out of the side of his mouth.

"Oh yes, I payed for it all right. One thousand and nine hundred dollars. But that was including all the health things I was supposed to require."

"Good Lord!" Watson wondered how many more times he would say that this day "nearly two thousand dollars? What kind of a woman charges that much, that's ridiculous!"

Sherlock gave him an odd look "Yes, well, I thought it a fairly normal price all things considered. And it's not a woman it's a man."

John felt a bit queasy "Sherlock! How many times must I make myself clear, I am not gay!"

Sherlock looked confused and a bit hurt though he quickly hid his emotions and shrugged "whatever you say. Though denial is the first sign my friend."

_Great. _Thought John miserably _now I've upset him. After all he did appear to go great lengths to do this for me. But for Pete's sake! _

"Look here Sherlock," he started to say crossly, but was cut off when the blue door flung open and a short bald roundish man with a greying beard who was clearly in his late sixty's appeared with a grin.

"Sherlock, what the bloody hell?" whispered Watson savagely.

"I'm so glad you've come! I've been expecting you, please come right in. You can leave your shoes at the door." the man clasped both their hands in a brief shake and waved them in.

"Sherlock" John grabbed his sleeve.

The man disappeared down the hall for a moment and as soon as he was out of sight Sherlock seized both John's arms and pinned him against the wall. John fell silent, keenly aware of Sherlock's eyes gazing into his intently and the feel of his breath on his skin. His body did not quite brush against him, but John found himself wishing it would.

"John," said Sherlock low and very near "shut up, and trust me."

Watson swallowed hard, he couldn't speak, but he nodded reluctantly. Sherlock released him and with a twitch at his collar he strode off after the man. John swallowed again and fidgeted with his own collar a minute before following. He had found himself short of breath all of a sudden.

They were lead to a tattered green couch and the man, whose name was Mr. Hans, offered them some tea and biscuits. John but into one and spat it out in disgust at the flavor.

"Oh, pardon me. I seem to have mixed up the dog biscuits with the human ones. I'll go fetch your little lady now; I hear her crying for you."

John cocked his head because he did hear something, but it sounded like a dog crying…

Cute, cuddly, lots of kisses, dog biscuits, dogs crying. Something he had been longing for a long time.

"Sherlock Holmes!" he turned to the man "did you get me a puppy?"

At that moment Mr. Hans appeared and in his arms was a little squirming, black and tan, fluffy ball of fur that peered out with bright eyes under floppy ears that wouldn't stay up. It was an adorable German shepherd puppy with blue eyes.

And at that moment, as John Watson scooped the bundle of fluff up in his arms and buried his face in the silky fur to inhale the sweet puppy scent, he knew he was in love.

The odd thing was, as he felt the strong arm of his 'friend' circling round him to tentatively stroke the little dogs ears he knew it was not just love for the squirming pup who licked his chin, but to the man who had given him it. And this thought made him blush, though he quickly hid it by holding up the puppy to the light.

"Are you happy with your present?" whispered Sherlock.

"God yes. And thank you Sherlock, not just for the dog, but for not giving me a session with a stripper. I would have been greatly embarrassed."

Sherlock laughed "then my deductions were correct."

"They were, but you don't have to look so bloody smug about it. Thank you again though."

Mr. Hans looked intrigued and offered some human biscuits this time, nodding in approval as John tenderly broke off tiny pieces of dog biscuit and dipped them in a bit of tea he had poured in his saucer to soften them for little puppy teeth.

"What shall you name her?" he inquired, scratching his bald head.

John winced as the puppy nipped his thumb; her teeth weren't so little after all. He pondered a moment and turned to Sherlock putting the dog on the floor.

"What do you think?"

The pup tried to gnaw on Sherlock's shoe lace and he nudged her away with his toe with a look of mild apprehension.

"Mary Jane. She makes your spirits high, if you get my meaning." Sherlock laughed until John punched his arm with surprising force.

'Don't talk about my baby girl like that." He growled and kissed the little German shepherd's nose.

Sherlock collapsed dramatically, clutching his arm, before rolling his eyes "I regret already getting you this dog. You're going to absolutely spoil her and she'll ruin everything in the apartment at the rate she's destroying my shoe lace."

"She can help us on our cases! Forget Sherlock Holmes, we now have Sherlock Bones!"

Sherlock sniffed "how utterly bothersome."

**Please review and tell me what name you think I should pick for the little pupper, since I don't think Mary Jane will do lol. Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed! **


	3. Chapter 3

**Authors note:** **Sadly I don't own the rights to this. If I did you'd best believe Sherlock Season 5 would be here by now. Please review and tell me your thoughts, I'm still pretty new at this whole fanfiction business **

It turned out giving Watson a puppy might have been more complicated then Sherlock could have ever dreamed. He had seen John sitting intently on his laptop and when he left to go make coffee a quick search of his web browser history showed puppies, puppies and more German Shepherd puppies. As well as puppies of a more shocking sort, that Sherlock hurriedly clicked away from with disgust.

In his distant detective brain Sherlock thought to himself that getting a dog for Watson wouldn't be difficult all they had to do was throw it some food every now and again and keep it locked up and out from under foot. Personally he couldn't see why Watson wanted one so bad, they were a noisy distracting nuisance and dogs had never been overly fond of him, maybe it was that ugly hat John made him put on for the press. It was enough to make anyone thoroughly disturbed.

But the first thing Watson announced as they got into a cab, the beast cradled in his arms wagging her little tail, was

"Take us to the nearest convenience store and step on it." He gave the dog, christened Luna, a kiss between the ears and Sherlock felt a pain of red hot jealousy course through him.

"I thought we were going home, what on earth would we need to buy?" He snapped irritably at John flipping through his E-mails in search of any decent cases.

John threw him a look "What do we need to buy?" He asked incredulously "why everything! We need dog food, some treats, two bowls, a leash and little collar, a kennel, a dog bed, lots and lots of toys, and one of those cute little dog sweaters."

Sherlock glared "That's far more then you'd ever buy for _me. _And be efficient we don't need half those things, though a kennel would be prudent. A sweater however is an absolute ridiculous waste as she had warm fur and would hate it anyways."

John cast him a dangerous look "She is named Luna. And if I say my baby girl needs a sweater, she needs a sweater."

Sherlock made a humphing sound.

"Here Luna daddy's going to pass you to Uncle Sherly, whoopsie daisy here you go!" John crooned as he passed the dog "good lord Sherlock don't you know how to properly hold a puppy? Don't let her hang like that, here like this."

And so Sherlock stiffly held the pup, pretending to gag at John's new name for him as Uncle Sherly "Don't breath a word to Mycroft about this." He growled as John snapped several pictures.

"Of course I'll tell Mycroft, everyone will love the good news!"

"Don't."

"Sending Mycroft pictures!"

When they arrived at the store John went on what could only be described as a shopping frenzy, he bought food, treats, leash and collar, bed and kennel, which Sherlock thought quite enough for the little dog. But he deduced Watson far from satisfied, and like always his deductions were correct.

"Look at this Sherlock, it's an electronic watering bowl fountain!"

"We don't need that."

"I'll put it in the cart. Oh look a puppy play pen with little pink bones!"

"_No." _

The sweater was pink with the words "Daddy's favorite." Stitched in white. Sherlock turned slightly red and he whispered in the pup's ear "you are not!"

When they finally arrived at 221 Bakers Street everyone was exhausted and Luna to Sherlock's relief was asleep. John tucked her into the play pen with a blanket and little elephant toy.

"Since it's you're birthday I suppose I'll try my hand at cooking. It's a great sacrifice I know but I'll do my best." Sherlock dramatically swooned into Watsons arms a wooden spoon tucked beneath his arm like he had been stabbed. Watson's eyes traveled across the lengthy torso and grinning face. Before he could stop himself he found his fingers reaching out to tug a lock of the curly black hair that wouldn't stay neat.

Blushing he pushed himself away and went to check on Luna, fondling the floppy ears "Maybe you should just get some take out. The flats tidy for once and you'd absolutely wreck it."

Sherlock watched as John's hands, those clever, beautiful hands, petted and stroked the silky fur. "Whatever you'd like. Chinese sound good?" he found himself asking. Watson nodded and he pulled on his coat. Chinese it was.

"Oh and Sherlock, you don't mind if I have a girl over tomorrow?"

Oh Sherlock would mind, he would mind very much. But he grinned evilly as he remembered something he had read long ago "I wouldn't do that if I were you John. I've heard that puppies can't be exposed to new people too early or they could get sick."

John's eyes widened "Oh, of course. How could I be so stupid?"

Sherlock glared "don't say that you are far more clever then the average normal person."

And with that he went out the door.

If the first day with the puppy was bad the first night was a thousand times worse. Luna cried and barked and howled and wouldn't be content in her kennel even with plenty of blankets and toys. She wouldn't be content in bed with Watson either and managed to chew up one of Sherlock's shoes. John cradled and rocked her and scolded her but she wouldn't stop crying, Sherlock stuffed his head under his pillow and was trying to block out the racket when John called for him.

"Sherlock, could you heat a hot water bottle? I read that might help."

Grumbling Sherlock pulled himself out of bed and got the hot water bottle. He marched into Watson's room, trying not to stare at his shirtless torso and marched out. To his surprise the crying did stop, and he was just about to fall asleep when his door was flung open and John stood staring down at him.

"She wet the bed."

"Humph." Said Sherlock sleepily.

"The couch is lumpy."

"hmmmmmmph."

"Would you mind?"

Sherlock didn't know exactly what John was asking in his sleepy state but he shook his head and rolled over. He stiffened at once when he felt John tentatively slip in besides him, placing the puppy in the middle. Hot puppy breath crept on his neck.

"John?" he asked in a strangled tone.

"What?"

"N-never mind."

John cocked his head; he had never known the detective to be at a loss for words.

"Do you like dogs Sherlock?" He asked.

"No. When I was small two big ones chased me and bit me, Mycroft laughed. They all are annoying little beasts anyways."

"Are you the great Sherlock Holmes, scared of dogs?"  
"Of course not!"  
"Luna will hardly be little when she's grown. Why did you get me her if you disliked them so much?"

Sherlock turned his head to look at Watson lying there, so perfect in the dim light.

"Because I…" he wanted so badly to say it, but he couldn't "Because I wanted to please you. It's your birthday after all."

John sat up on his elbows and gazed down at him "Thank you. I mean it, it's the most wonderful thing anyone has ever done for me."

"Goodnight John." Sherlock rolled over on his side and pretended to go to sleep, but he couldn't. Not with John lying a few feet away.

After several long minutes of silence John must have thought he really was asleep because he leaned over and kissed him gently "Good night Sherlock Holmes."

And at that moment Sherlock was very grateful to that little puppy.

**Thanks so much 4 reading! Comment and tell me what you think!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Authors note: Wow! Thanks so much for reviewing and continuing to read, it makes my day! I don't own the rights to this. **

Watson stirred and his eyelids fluttered. He was holding something large and warm in his arms, soft hair tickled at his nose.

_Luna got big fast_. He thought, and opened his eyes sleepily. He opened them wider and stiffened, what he was holding tightly to his chest was not Luna.

Sherlock was pressed up against him his head buried in his chest, one of his slender hands lightly gripped around his wrist. He smelled like soap and a little like smoke, a smudge was on his left cheek. He looked less like the grand amazing Sherlock Holmes and more like the tired vulnerable boy that sometimes appeared in him. His mouth opened slightly and a soft snore was heard.

John thought about scooting away, he thought about letting go of his embrace around the slender man's body. But instead he smiled sleepily and buried his nose deeper in the dark sea of curls, feeling both hearts pound in the same rhythm as they lay against each other.

Then something wet and warm dribbled down John's leg and he stiffened. This was not happening again. With a whine and a yap Luna crawled up his side and nipped playfully on his ear.

"Shhh. I guess it's my fault you wet the bed, I forgot to take you out again." John said nudging her away gently.

"Sherlock? John? What is that noise? Good heavens, I hope I'm not interrupting something of the romantic sort!" Mrs. Hudson poked her head through the door and peered at the two men entangled with each other.

John pushed himself away and leapt out of the bed, self-consciously waving his hands about as he tried to explain himself. He was _very _glad they were both fully clothed.

"Were not, I mean, I'm not, we didn't, you see none of this was intentional. And none of this was in the slightest romantic? Luna wet my bed so I couldn't sleep there and, and, and… why Mrs. Hudson you haven't met Luna yet!" flushed and flustered John lifted Luna to present to

The landlady and to his intense relief Mrs. Hudson seemed to completely forget about the incident as she fond over the puppy.

"Isn't she darling? Poor baby left to wet the bed at night. Why I could just eat her up she's so adorable." She cooed.

"Kindly don't, besides the fact that eating her would be extremely hazardous to your mental and physical health, I spent a great deal of money and took great pains to acquire her." Sherlock yawned and stretched, then scrunched up his nose and sniffed "what's that smell?"

"I thought the great Sherlock Holmes with his killer nose would be able to identify dog pee when he smelled it." Said John retrieving Luna from Mrs. Hudson's loving but tight grasp.

Sherlock fixed him with a look "oh believe me I identified it even before I woke. I was merely asking for experiment's sake."

"Experiment? What experiment?" asked John shortly, aware Mrs. Hudson was observing them intently.

"On you of course."

Mrs. Hudson let out her breath in what might have been a laugh "was it a real banger of a night then? If you two are sore let me know and I can get you some aspirin in a jiffy."

"That will not be required thank you very much Mrs. Hudson." Snapped John blushing from his roots.

Mrs. Hudson gave Luna a rub and John a peck on the check before retreating "I'll have tea if you want any."

When she had left John stared at his shoes while Sherlock nonchalantly tugged off his shirt wrinkling his nose at "wet messy creature." He glared at Luna "I was rather fond of that shirt."

He looked up at Watson and caught his eye, "John," he began but John shoved his hands in his pockets and dropped Luna on the floor "Please don't say anything Sherlock. Not one word." And with that he left the room.

Puppy training began in the many weeks that followed. After Luna had yapped their ears off, ruined exactly sixteen shoes, peed all over the house and chewed through all the electrical cords, John finally invested in a spray bottle filled with water. Luna lived in fear and dread of that little spray of water, and suddenly began to behave herself, at least as best she could. Occasionally a shoe would accidently still wind up in her mouth, and who couldn't bark at the strange squirrel out the window?

John also began to teach Luna little tricks that made Molly squeal and Lestrade laugh. Luna was very smart and the pieces of bacon John rewarder her with was enough to make her do nearly anything.

"What use is it teaching her to roll over or stand on her hinny? Why not teach her something really spectacular. I saw a video of a dog that could count to ten and read short words, we could teach her that. If we exposed her to certain situations and complications and played our cards right with a little science we could make her the smartest dog in the world." Demanded Sherlock who was disdainful of the party tricks.

John rolled his eyes "you can try. But I won't have you experimenting on her, she's not a lab rat she's part of the family."

Sherlock snorted "As if I wouldn't experiment on family. I do it all the time."  
And so Sherlock began to take interest in Luna. He hardly ever touched her at first except when necessary and managed to keep a good distance, but over time he began to get comfortable. Whenever he was bored he would sit Luna in front of him and give her long lectures. He built intricate dog puzzles out of things from Mrs. Hudson's kitchen and put her kibble inside it. He brought her to the park and taught her to track gun powder so she could find concealed weapons and to track drugs.

"Not that I couldn't find them faster than her," he glowered "But she might as well learn something useful. She's a German shepherd, isn't her kind bred to work?"

"I suppose," consented John "as long as you don't work her too hard, don't forget to be patient."

"I have to practice patience whenever I'm around anyone normal. She however shows more intelligence then many dull people I know."

He would read to her and print the alphabet and numbers up to ten in big letters on a whiteboard. Every day he would repeat them to her and try to make her understand them

"D is for dogs like you, not that it doesn't stand for hundreds of other words that you mustn't get confused with."

He made mysterious potions in the kitchen and mixed it with peanut butter so she would eat it

"Just little things like vitamins and a bit else, it will make her twice as smart as the ordinary dog. God this is a good chance for me John, a real live test subject that is willing to do nearly anything. And dogs aren't too hard to understand, I can open a world of communication and understanding, I will achieve the unachievable with her!" He once said.

"She is _not _a test subject, and don't you forget that." Said John firmly "I will make that punch I gave you look like patty cakes if you inject anything in her, I saw you fiddling around with a needle the other day."

Sherlock pouted "Fine. But you can't expect me to have no fun with this."

Sometimes John was concerned when Sherlock talked like this, but when he saw the great and mighty detective cradling a not so small Luna in his arms and humming to her, he knew he had nothing to worry about. Not that he wasn't a little jealous of the way Sherlock was talking to the puppy.

Ever since that night they had slept together John began to realize it was futile to keep denying it to himself, he found Sherlock very…attractive to be sure. But he wasn't ready to admit it to anyone, sometimes not even himself, and especially not Sherlock.

But it was growing harder by the day.


	5. Chapter 5

**Authors note: Thanks so much for reading! I don't own the rights to this, blah, blah, blah. Stay tuned for a big oopsie on Sherlock's part and cute angry John. Also I apologize in advance for the ending of this chapter. **

Sherlock drummed his fingers on his thigh, his brows lowered in concentration as he measured out the acid and Sulphur, one false move and it could all be spoiled.

"Luna! Here girl!" the door opened and John entered with a Luna who barked excitedly and went prancing up to leap up on Sherlock. She was getting so big now she reached nearly pass his hips when on her hind legs; though he suspected one day she would easily reach his shoulders.

"Down Luna, damn!" he caught the glass bottle he had dropped in surprise just inches before it hit the floor. "John get her away, she'll ruin everything!" With a tug he succeeded in pulling her away from his jar of pig's eyes.

John flopped down in his armchair with a sigh, calling her with a whistle. "I can't seem to tire her out to day; she's still bursting with energy. Here, what do you want young lady?" Luna stood in front of him, her plumed tail fanning the air in a state of excitement, with a bark she wriggle and danced to a cupboard behind the bin and barked again.

"It's all that training you've been giving her." Watson rose and stretched, following the excited dog to the cupboard "She's trying to hunt down everything she'll think will please us, yesterday she wouldn't stop bothering me about my gun."

Sherlock glanced up a startled and slightly guilty expression on his face "I wouldn't look in there John" He said hurriedly "I, erm, saw a mouse there the other day."

John gave him an odd look "a mouse? I suppose I better set a trap then. Steady Luna." Luna barked more intently now running from the cupboard to John and back to the cupboard again in frenzy.

"I'll go ahead and set one as soon as I'm through you needn't bother." Sherlock placed down his chemicals and attempted to steer John bodily away, John resisted and Sherlock seized his collar.

"Sherlock," John grabbed the slender man's wrists and pinned them at his sides "What's do you have in the cupboard? Tell me."

"Nothing, don't be idiotic." Sherlock

"You have never been a good liar, at least not with me. What is it? Please tell me it's not what I think it is."

"Oh, shove off will you? You're beginning to annoy me."

"I annoy you?" John twisted around him and managed to get the cupboard open, though Sherlock tried to shut it again. Luna wriggled frantically, barking her head off, and tried to climb into the small cupboard. She didn't seem to be aware that the cupboard was quite small and she quite large. A little black box tumbled out and onto the floor. Sherlock snatched it up and held it to his chest, and John tried to snatch it back in a wild lunge, the box fell to the floor and white powder came spilling out in a wide arc.

There was a silence, Luna eyed it and butted up against John, happy to have fulfilled her job. John petted her absentmindedly while glaring in Sherlock's direction.

"Why do you have cocaine, Sherlock Holmes?" demanded John breaking the deathly quiet in the room. His cheeks had reddened in anger. Sherlock shrugged and stuck his hands in his pockets.

"It's clearly powdered sugar, don't be absurd." He said

"That is _not _powdered sugar, and you bloody well know it!"

"Puppy formula?"

"Sherlock!" John clenched his fists and took a breath.

Sherlock scanned his face anxiously "Fine, it _is _cocaine, but I don't see what all this fuss is about. I'm not an addict and you know I've used it before. It's to enhance my mind when I really need it, I don't just snort it up every day like some tow headed two year old with a problem. Besides it's for an experiment and I hardly see why it would be any concern of yours. I'm not like Luna John; you're not in charge of me. It's my business."

John threw his hands in the air "But that's just it, I am… concerned about you. And you agreed you wouldn't use it, you promised me you wouldn't. You promised and now you've proven you're not a man of your word. It will be hard to trust you after this."

Sherlock grimaced "yes, well, I _am_ sorry about that. But to be fair I did cross my fingers, so technically it didn't count."

"You're impossible! You can't just do that!" John began to pull on his coat and hat.

"All right I shouldn't have done it, or crossed my fingers. I was wrong blah blah blah. Let's just forget about it shall we? Where are you going?"

"For a walk." John grabbed Luna and clipped her to her leash. She yapped and tried to catch her tail, an unsuccessful attempt that ended with her in a fluffy black and tan pile of fur on the floor.

"Why? You just went on a walk, and I can tell you're tired though you won't admit it." Sherlock languidly blocked the door.

"I need another one. Get out of my way or I'll belt you good."

"And you pretend you hate violence. I'll come with you." Sherlock reached for his scarf but John boxed his hand away.

"No Sherlock I want to be alone." John pushed him aside from the door.

"It probably wasn't the smartest idea I've had to train her to hunt out something that I might eventually want to hide. I knew I didn't like dogs. All though hours spending with her to teach her how to track it down, though to be fair you still don't know for sure it's not sugar." Sherlock glared at Luna.

"Oh leave the poor mutt out of this you big baby." John stalked out the door.

"Have a lovely walk. And I am _not _a baby." Sherlock shut it in his face and locked it just for fun, sticking out his tongue "pushy pushy push over."

John was gone a long time, and the longer Sherlock waited alone the more agitated he became. He realized after spending and hour just staring at the clock how much he relied on John's presence. He went back to his chemicals with a groan and soon became immersed in it, but after when he had accidently called for John to hand him things, or ask him a question, he poured out a wrong measurement and ended up burning his hand.

"agh, John I burned myself with the acid, help!" he called out dramatically and scowled when John didn't materialize with soothing crèmes and soft words "fine," He grumbled "some doctor you are. I'll get it myself."

After he had clumsily bandaged himself he tumbled onto the couch in his bathrobe and flipped through the telly, of course all the idiotic shows bored him and he wished John were there to make them funny.

He texted Mycroft

_I'm bored and starving to death _

Mycroft answered

_Have your husband make you some food and eat it up like a good little boy._

Sherlock rolled his eyes

_Can't. Save me. _

He could hear the sneer in Mycroft's voice when he typed

_Having a little domestic are we? Shame you can't walk five minutes to the pizza place right down the road. Or is the little Sherlock Holmes too heartbroken to move?_

Sherlock looked out the window, it was raining now and it was eleven thirty pm. He was beginning to feel even more anxious now.

_I'm worried Mycroft, I love him _

After he sent it he waited dry throated for his brother's response. It came almost immediately

_How sickening._

Sherlock almost threw the phone

_Mycroft please, this is not funny. I need your help. _

He didn't reply for several minute but when he did Sherlock felt a wave of assurance wash through him.

_I know his location I'll send a car for him to get home. I'll make sure he's not in danger Sherly._

With a breath of relief Sherlock settled back down to wait for Mycroft to do his work. His brother was many unpleasant things, but when he said he'd do something he didn't break his word.

"I'm sorry John," Sherlock murmured as he kept his eyes on the door "Please be alright."

Eventually he dozed off, his curly head in his hands, dreaming uneasily of John being in danger and him not being able to save him.

A feeble rap on the door shook him awake and Sherlock ran to the door and flung it open. John stood in the rain, his hair plastered down on his head and water dripping down the collar of his jacket. His eyes were red and swollen, and his knuckles were scraped and bleeding.

"John! What's the matter? Get inside!" Sherlock heaved him through the door and into his favorite chair "Here take my jacket."

John shivered and pulled the jacket round his shoulders. Sherlock stoked up the fire and brought hot tea, in his frantic state he spilled half of it down his front but John didn't seem to mind.

"Thank you," he said in a strange voice, he seemed to have completely forgot all about being angry about the drugs.

Sherlock looked around, noticing the dog leash that was clenched tightly in John's hands. No fluffy puppy was leaping up to lick his face. He knelt down next to John and clasped his hands tightly

"John, where's Luna?"

John swallowed "She's dead Sherlock. She got hit by a car when I let her off the lead."


	6. Chapter 6

**Authors note: Sorry guys for the terrible ending last chapter, I'll try my best to make things happy again, but it will be hard without Luna. I don't own the rights to this.**

John felt Sherlock grab his shoulders and pull him close, he smelled like he had been messing about with chemicals again and a bit like he had indulged in a whiskey as well "What? What do you mean she's dead? You must be mistaken." He said sharply gazing down into his face.

"No Sherlock," Watson felt his breath hitch and he wiped his eyes straightening and trying to put on a nonchalant air "it's my fault. I thought she was well trained enough to behave herself off the lead, but she saw a squirrel and ran after it into a busy intersection. There was a big van and it honked but didn't even slow down Sherlock, just kept going. And if I had only not been so stupid as to let her off the lead…" He sat down in his favorite arm chair and rubbed his eyes tiredly with his knuckles.

"No John it's my fault." He heard Sherlock say distantly "If I hadn't been such a little selfish bastard and broke my promise to you would never have stormed away like you did. I'm so sorry, please believe me I'm so sorry John."

John gave a short bark of laughter "no one cares about that any more Sherlock. Why shouldn't you do as you please? It doesn't matter anymore do you hear me? My poor precious baby girl was just brutally murdered in front of my very eyes; I don't care to discuss your stupid and complicated relationship with drugs."

"Well it's not half as stupid and complicated as our relationship." Muttered Sherlock rebelliously to himself.

"What was that?" John glared at him in disbelief "I can't believe you right now. Do _not _start saying things like that to me right now. Do you just not care about me? Is that it?"

"John, I do care…" Sherlock tentatively wrapped his arms around John's shoulders.

"No Sherlock, not now. If you care then please shut up" John said tiredly "I can't think straight right now."

_What a coincidence, I can't think straight either_. Thought Sherlock to himself, begrudgingly releasing John. Then a thought hit him like a lightning bolt.

"John, where's the body? I'm sure even if there were very little remains you would want to bury it." He knelt down gazing up into John's angry eyes.

"There was none I suppose; at least I couldn't find it. It must have been flung from the freeway and I couldn't bear to look. But she's dead Sherlock I saw her, the van ran right over her little body. There is no way she could possibly have survived." John said as he wearily reached out to play with Sherlock's curls.

Sherlock clasped his hand "But don't you see there is every single chance! Why, there is no chance she _is _dead by the sound of it!"

"Piss off."

Sherlock stood and surveyed his companion "I will find her and bring her home." He said firmly "I promise" He spread his hands before Johns face "See? No fingers crossed."

John hit them away "You're an idiot. I don't trust you anymore."

"I'll be back shortly," Sherlock said putting on his scarf "goodbye." He swooped out without another word. John rolled his eyes; Sherlock had always been a drama queen.

As Sherlock had waited anxiously for him, he waited anxiously for Sherlock. But unlike himself Sherlock didn't come back. After it had been twenty four hours and Lestrade didn't answer three phone calls and Mycroft had been infuriatingly unconcerned about the whole affair, John had enough.

"Damn him, I'll go looking for him myself."

The streets of London were crowded today and it was still raining heavily. John made his way to the park where Luna had been killed; Sherlock would surely have headed there on his hunt. It occurred to him that he had never actually told Sherlock the location, but knowing Sherlock it wouldn't matter. He would know anyways.

The park was wet and empty except for a homeless lady with a stripped beanie sitting on a bench looking miserable in the rain, a plastic tarp wrapped around her shoulders.

"Excuse me miss," John approached her "have you happened to see Sherlock Holmes about here anywhere?" He held up a newspaper, which conveniently had a large picture of him on the front page with the words under it, **Has Holmes gone bonkers? **Which was a question John asked him all the time.

The lady squinted at the picture and wiped her wet hair out of her face "got a cig?" She demanded.

John felt around in his pockets and pulled out a crumpled ten pounds "no but I have this. Please if you know anything tell me, I'm quite worried about him."

The lady just squinted at him again until he pulled out some more cash. She took the money eagerly and counted it carefully "He said you'd come looking around. He said for me to tell you to go home, it's no use trying to find him."

"Then you have seen him then! Tell me where he went"

The lady pointed "He went to that intersection and nearly got hit when he ran across it like an idiot. He headed down Griffin and 12th, don't know what he did after that."

John was so happy he nearly hugged her, but the stench of rotten eggs and garbage repelled him. He thrust more money into her hand "whenever you want a cig my dear lady, head to 221 Baker Street and I'll be more than happy to supply you."

He felt confident he knew where Sherlock was headed, and couldn't keep himself at a walk as he jogged through alley ways and clambered over a chain link fence. Wet, tired, cold, but enthusiastic he rapped on a familiar blue door.

Mr. Hans the dog breeder opened the door and smiled "Ah my dear Watson what a pleasant surprise. Come in, come in! How is my little Luna doing?"

John froze a lump rising in his throat. Bravely he swallowed it as he was ushered to the sitting room and offered some tea by the crackling fire. Luna's mother, Jemma, leapt with joy when she saw him and wriggled in delight nuzzling his hand. The lump grew bigger then and it was far more difficult to swallow.

"What brings you back to my humble abode Mr. Watson? Are you interested in perhaps another dog? Or is Luna giving you a fair bit of trouble?"

"No!" John said too loudly. He paused a moment to collect himself "You see I'm here about Sherlock. He's missing and I wondered if he might be here?"

Mr. Hans frowned slightly "oh dear how terrible. No I'm afraid I haven't seen him recently. Why on earth would he be here of all places? It seems very unlike him."

"You see… you see…" John took a deep breath "he's looking for Luna."

The frown deepened into a scowl "Good heavens is she lost? I must say I am shocked and horrified that you would allow such a thing to occur. I thought you two seemed like such a nice responsible couple!"

"We're not a couple" John was quick to say.

"Then what are you?" Mr. Hans was close to shouting.

"Flat mates, friends, brothers everything but romantic." John couldn't look at the man's glare "Luna isn't lost, she… she's dead. I'm so sorry Mr. Hans."

Mr. Hans was deadly quiet a minute before rage spread over his features "How?" he whispered.

John bit his lip nervously "I let her off the lead when I shouldn't have. She ran into the road and got hit."

Mr. Hans face went blank and he took several breaths "thank you for your visit Mr. Watson. Now kindly take your leave."

"Mr. Hans please believe me when I say I loved Luna with all my heart."

"GET OUT!" Mr. Hans rose and shouted. Jemma barked nervously.

John swallowed and tried to speak, then decided against it and fled the house.

It had stopped raining and a bit of sun poked through the clouds, John stared bleakly at it. His clothes were still wet and his shoes squeaked with every step. With a sigh he hailed a taxi and headed back home.

Mrs. Hudson was baking cookies when he got there, humming a little song to herself and listening to music.

"Mrs. Hudson, Sherlock hasn't come home has he?" John asked wearily.

She gave him a taste of the dough "no dear I haven't seen him. But I have the loveliest surprise for you, you'll just be thrilled. Go take off your wet things before you catch cold, there's a duckie."

John didn't much care about surprises at the moment. He'd had more than his fill of them. He climbed the stairs and paused at the door to his room. Luna used to sit on his bed waiting for him, her tail wagging and her eyes smiling. He missed her terribly, and felt sick when he thought of the yelp she had made when the car hit her.

With a groan he opened his door and nearly dropped dead with shock.

There sitting on the bed with her tail wagging was Luna, his own dear fluffy floppy eared Luna! She barked in greeting and wriggled around in ecstasy of happiness.

With a sob breaking from his throat John ran to her and buried his face in the soft fur, her tongue licked the tears from his cheek and her tail thumped against his side and he held her close.

But where was Sherlock?


End file.
